On Thin Ice
by nolanism
Summary: Dahlia Middleton is really Dahlia Crane; she hasn't seen or heard from her brother in years. She's kept his existence secret in order to protect herself, but danger always finds a way to seep into her life. When she meets a certain scarred man, the walls of lies she's built around herself comes crumbling down. Set before and during TDK. Joker/OC. Possible Crane/OC.
1. Moving In

**A/N:** This is my second Batman fic, I haven't updated my other one in a _really_ long time because of college and writers' block. I definitely have ideas for this story, and I hope with summer coming soon, I can update more often.

**Rating:** M for violence, language, and sexual content.

**Disclaimer: **I own no characters from the Batman franchise. Dahlia, Lana and other OC characters are mine.

**Enjoy :)**

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"Is that the last one?" Dahlia asked, looking up at Lana as she struggled to slide an overstuffed cardboard box towards her. Lana gave up with a deep sigh, walking over to the living room and plopping down on the wooden floor next to her best friend.

"Yeah, and unless you take out some of your useless crap, I'm not bringing it any closer."

"Useless crap? I don't think so," She crawled towards the box, looking to see what was inside. "I'm pretty sure half of this stuff is _yours_ too."

"I didn't keep _all_ of my college papers and books, Dolly. You're the packrat here."

Dahlia rolled her eyes, and began taking out several worn folders and binders to set on the floor. Within a few minutes, she was sitting next to a pile of college work that nearly towered over her. She bit her lip, maybe Lana _was _right… She reached for the folder at the top, examining the outside of it.

"You _really _don't need any of this," Lana took the folder out of her hand, shaking her head as she began to flip through random pages. "Essays…poorly written notes…drawings of _stick figures_…" Lana smirked, and then froze.

"Wh-what?" Dahlia asked, confusion written across her face.

"Dolly. Oh my god. The _love letter _you wrote to Bobby Hamilton during _freshman _year? I thought you threw this away!"

Dahlia's face flushed a deep red as Lana sprang to her feet, dramatically reading each verse of the poem.

"As I gaze at you from a distance, my heart can't help but to skip a few beats. I find it difficult to approach you, but I know that I that want to. _Oh_ Bobby, please understand—"

"Lana, stop it!" Dahlia shouted, standing up. "We both know I was _really_ stupid then, give it back!" She tried to take the paper from Lana's hand, but she only skipped to the opposite direction of the living room, the love letter clutched tightly against her chest.

"You're the one who kept it! I could've swore I saw you flush this down the toilet…" She looked down at it again. "There's no doubt in my mind that we should be together. Bobby Hamilton, please be min—"

Dahlia snatched the page with surprising swiftness, causing Lana to drop the folder she was holding. Papers flew everywhere, and Dahlia ripped the letter into tiny pieces, causing even more of a mess on the floor.

"Now it's gone." She gave herself a little smile, wiping her hands together as if she just took out the garbage. Lana rolled her eyes, sighing when she looked down at the scattered pieces of loose-leaf paper.

"It may be gone, but now we have more shit to clean up."

Dahlia shrugged, a nonchalant look on her face. Having to pick up hundreds of old papers sprawled across their living room floor was better than listening to Lana bring up embarrassing memories of her past love life that she'd repressed for years. She _hated _thinking about her freshman year of college; she was a naïve girl who knew too much about the city for her own good and thought the world revolved around her. Looking back now, it was as if she were a completely different person. Hell, she _was _a different person then.

She dropped down to the floor again, balling up paper and making a pile out of them. "Happy now? Now go get a trash bag."

Lana gave her best friend an exasperated sigh, but smiled nonetheless as she walked to the kitchen. "I hate to admit it, but I think you're right," Dahlia called, briefly but half-heartedly skimming through each paper before she crumbled it into a little ball. "I don't need any of this."

"You're actually admitting that you're _wrong_? That's a change." She sat down next to Dahlia, throwing trash in the bag with a huge smirk on her face. Dahlia merely rolled her eyes before looking down at the random piece of paper in her hand.

"Don't make me regret it—"

Lana looked to Dahlia, who'd frozen in midsentence. "D-Dolly?" Worry was clearly evident in her voice as she stared in concern at her best friend. Dahlia was as still as a statue, eyes wide as she looked down at the paper she was gripping in her hands. She was holding onto it so tightly, Lana was afraid that she might rip it.

"Dolly? What's wrong?" She said nothing; Lana was starting to get scared. She looked down at the paper as well, straining her eyes to examine the faded text and images.

It was a newspaper article from a year ago. The headline read, "MANHUNT FOR SADISTIC PSYCHIATRIST CONTINUES ON"

A picture of a man with strikingly blue eyes stared back at her. She flinched; he looked so lifeless, so unemotional. She would consider him attractive if it weren't for how…evil he looked. His messy, pushed back hair and sharp jawline couldn't even pull her in. And those were her weaknesses.

Was this the man Dahlia was looking at? It had to be; the entire article was about him. Fragments of sentences such as, "known for his unorthodox treatment of criminals" and "disappeared during Gotham fear gas outbreak" stood out to her.

_"What does he have to do with Dolly?"_ Lana thought nervously, remembering how chaotic Gotham University was during the outbreak. The entire school was on lockdown for two weeks.

"Dolly," She said slowly. "Who is this guy?"

"Jonathan," She said more to herself rather than Lana. Nonetheless, it took her off guard; Lana hadn't expected her to actually reply.

"Who's Jonathan? Do you know him?"

She didn't respond. Lana looked down at the article again. "Dr. Jonathan Crane," She whispered. "He was a psychiatrist at Arkham? Is that why you're so fascinated with him?" Lana's mind was racing; Dahlia graduated with a degree in psychology, maybe Dr. Crane was her professor during college? Or her role model? Lana quickly dismissed the thoughts; the man was clearly insane, and if he was a professor at GU, she was positive she would've heard about him on campus, especially with the kind of reputation the article said he has.

"Who is he?" Lana reached out to wrap an arm around Dahlia's shoulders. "You can tell me."

"Can we just drop this, Lana? Please."

"But—"

Dahlia looked at her for the first time, her expression unreadable. Lana dropped her arm, leaning away from her.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Th-that's fine."

Dahlia stood to her feet, the article still in her grip. She walked to her room for a few minutes. When she came back out, her hands were empty.

"So," Lana broke the uncomfortable silence. "You want to finish unpacking or call it quits for the rest of the day?"

Dahlia sat down on the couch with a sigh. "Later. I'm going to be busy tonight."

"Busy doing _what_? We just graduated, we have no jobs and last I checked, you decided to stop partying until we were fully settled into the apartment."

"Actually, I _do _have a job. I just got it."

"You do not have a job already!" Lana shouted, perking up. "How?!"

"Let's just say I know a few people.." She gave Lana a small smile.

"Where's it at? _How _did you get it?"

"Its a bar downtown called the Crescent Moon. I've met the owner a few times before, so I asked him if he had any openings."

"Oh," She sank down. "I thought you meant a real job."

"This is a real job!"

"A real job that we actually went to school to get, Ms. Psych Major. Not a second rate job that some sixteen year old dropout could do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dahlia asked bitterly. Lana's stomach dropped when she caught sight of how offended she looked.

"Nothing, but—"

"Are you implying that I have the intelligence of a sixteen year old dropout? Thanks."

"No, I didn't mean that at all, I swear."

Dahlia had gone silent again, her head turned towards the direction of the open window. Lana mentally sighed. She didn't hate many things about herself, but her tendency to take her mouth too far was one of them.

What she hated more, however, was how personally Dahlia took it.

"This Crescent Moon place," Lana began awkwardly. "Its nice?"

"Mhmm."

"Have I ever been there before?"

Dahlia scoffed. "Nope."

Lana had to struggle to keep herself from groaning in frustration. Damn Dahlia and her stubbornness! She bit her lip, trying to think of something that would get her talking again.

"Good pay?"

"Pretty good, actually."

"How much?"

"It, uh…it depends on what the night's like."

Lana sighed. She was going to hate herself for this.

"Do you think, maybe…there's a spot open for me?"

Dahlia turned to face her. Success!

"_Well_, Sal, the guy who owns it, did say he was looking for two or three more people. Are you serious?"

"Of course." She nodded with the biggest, fakest smile she could twist on her face. Dahlia started smiling back, but quickly stopped and narrowed her eyes.

"You're not too _good _for it, are you?"

Lana had to clench her fists to prevent herself from lunging at Dahlia. Her tone was really rubbing her the wrong way.

"Its always good to try something new." She said lamely, hoping her face wasn't betraying her real thoughts.

"…I guess I can try to talk to Sal. He likes me, after all." She rolled her eyes.

"Thanks—"

"Wait, I know!" She shot up from the couch. "Come with me when I go tonight, you can talk to him then!"

"To-tonight?" Lana asked nervously. She was hoping for a few extra days to find a new job so she could back out with some dignity. "I'm not sure…"

"Please, Lana?" Dahlia pulled her to her feet, her wide blue eyes pleading. "I'm really nervous, and it'll be better if you're there."

Lana almost frowned; what could be so nerve-wracking about a bar job? Thinking about it wasn't making her feel any better either. Nonetheless, she nodded, giving into her best friend's puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, okay, I'll go."

"Great!"

Dahlia wrapped her arms around Lana in a tight hug, her mood suddenly higher than ever. Lana couldn't help but to wonder if this was the kind of positive news she needed to hear after being reminded of "Jonathan" again.

_"__What does he have to do with her?" _The question never left her mind.


	2. First Night

**A/N: **Thanks for the follows/favorites! They mean so much to me!

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The bar's neon sign seemed to light up the entire block; the words _Crescent Moon _written in bright yellow cursive with an even brighter silver moon on top of it. Fast, loud dance music pulsed out from behind the closed metal doors, and the two Os of the sign flickered on and off in time with the beat.

_"Dear God." _Lana thought. She had no problem with bars, minus the fact that whenever she and Dahlia went partying, she was always the one who had to sneak her drunken friend back to their dorm. As she caught sight of the security guard standing out front, she felt a _little _better. At least it wasn't completely run down and trashy.

Still, she wasn't feeling great about it as she walked towards the brick building, even with Dahlia right next to her. She was slightly aggravated at her for dragging her down here and making her wear heels that were quickly forming blisters on her feet. Dahlia, for some reason Lana didn't trust, had forced her to wear a short black dress with tights and had completely gone to town on her hair and makeup. Her naturally curly brown hair was now straightened, and her face was covered with three times the makeup she normally used.

She felt like a total whore.

Dahlia looked the same way, but she pulled it off perfectly, even if it was a little extreme. Her outfit was covered by a black pea coat, which was strange for the humid June heat of Gotham. Lana had asked her a few times that it was for, but she only told her to "wait and see".

"Lana!" She turned to look at Dahlia, who was staring at her with mild confusion.

"What?"

"What's wrong with you?" Dahlia stepped in front of Lana right before she was able to step inside the door of the Moon, preventing her from moving any further.

"What are you talking about?" Lana pushed her aside and walked in. "I don't know what—wow."

When Dahlia had said "bar job", Lana had pictured the bar closest to the GU campus. Dimly lit, uncomfortably crowded, stale pretzels, with servers who snuck their underage college friends drinks and groups of older men who sat in the corner with beers to watch the game.

But this place…wow.

It had to be ten times bigger on the inside than what it looked from the street, most of it taken up by a massive stage that expanded halfway across the room. The stage was decorated with a pole on each corner, flashing neon and strobe lights hanging overhead, and a small staircase. Tables surrounded the stage, still empty for the most part, too early for the real nightlife. There was a bar stretched along the left wall, where men in loosened and wrinkled work clothes slumped in their stools, drinking away the stress of the day.

_Wow._

"You brought me to work at a strip joint." Lana stated flatly, still looking around. "Your idea of a job is stripping. Really?"

"I never said _you _had to strip." Dahlia said.

"Well, what the fuck _else _do you expect me to do in a fucking strip joint!?" Lana shouted. "Christ, what would Adam think…"

Dahlia rolled her eyes at the mention of her best friend's boyfriend. She wasn't fond of Adam or his excessive protectiveness over Lana. Dahlia enjoyed exploring the city and wanted Lana to join her, but Adam always pulled her away, telling her that Dahlia was "looking to get herself killed by the mob". Dahlia scoffed at the thought. She was born and raised in Gotham, whereas Lana spent majority of her life in the suburbs. She had only been to Gotham twice prior to attending GU, and when she met Adam during freshmen year, he was determined to keep her sheltered.

_"Fucking prick," _She thought to herself.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Dahlia looked to her best friend, who was fuming with anger. "What, Lana? Just don't tell him. No big deal."

"No _big _deal? Have you lost your mind?!" Her voice was so loud that it could be heard over the music. Some men turned their heads to look at them. Dahlia shifted uncomfortably in her heels, but Lana was completely oblivious of them. She only saw Dahlia.

"There's my newest shining star!" A man with a loud, thick Italian accent strolled towards them, his arms wide open. Dahlia's previous scowl was replaced with a huge smile as she gave him a hug. Lana grimaced when they pulled away; something about him just radiated sleaziness. Tan slacks, slightly unbuttoned shirt… Lana shivered. She didn't like him.

"Is this the hire you were talking about?" He asked, his arm wrapped tightly around Dahlia's waist.

"No." Lana answered before Dahlia could say anything.

"Hm, why not?" Sal asked, eyeing her up and down. Lana took an instinctive step back. "You look like you have a pretty nice body. Well, maybe if you wore something more…fitted."

"Do you have any other jobs for her?" Dahlia asked, grabbing Lana's arm just as she said, _"I'm out of here,"_ and began to leave.

"Well," He rubbed his stubbled chin. "One of my bartenders _did _just quit…"

"I don't think so." Lana said. She glanced over at Dahlia, noticing a slightly pleading look in her eyes. She hated to let her down, but she felt so out of place here. Not to mention the fact that Adam would completely flip if he found out, and only have yet another reason to hate Dahlia.

"C'mon, just try it out. If you don't like it, you never have to come back." Sal offered.

"A trial? Please. Since when do jobs work like that?"

"Lana, what could one try hurt? You're already here." Dahlia begged. Lana fixed her with a cold glare.

"Two hundred bucks up front, plus any tips you make." He suggested.

"Four hundred."

"_Two fifty._"

"Four hundred."

"Three hundred. My final offer on this, I don't got all night."

"Fine," She sighed. "I'll try it. Happy?" She crossed her arms and walked closer to Dahlia so her glare was more threatening. Dahlia ignored it, a grin breaking across her face.

"Yes!"

"You owe me for this." Lana hissed in her ear. Dahlia could only smile.

"So," Sal clapped his hands together. "You know anything about 'tending?"

"Nope."

"Pete'll help you out then." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the bar. "Business is gonna be picking up soon. You might want to go get ready."

"Okay," Lana said, and then turned to Dahlia. "You'll be okay?"

"She'll be fine!" Sal answered for her. "I see real potential in this girl." He clasped his hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you show off some for me?"

"Of course." Dahlia giggled and shrugged the pea coat off her shoulders, leaving Sal grinning in approval while Lana's jaw dropped to the floor. She was dressed in nothing but tiny dark red boyshorts, and a matching tank top that clung to her skinny body. Her skin was dusted in glitter that made her sparkle under the strobe lights.

"Wow Dolly, you really look like a slu—"

"Not bad for a first timer." Sal cut Lana off, nodding to himself. "But you're jumping a bit ahead of the game, dear. We have some outfits in the back. Let some of the pros help you out." He smirked as he wrapped his arm around her waist again, leading her to the dressing room at the far corner of the floor.

"Have fun flashing your tits!" Lana shouted after Dahlia as she practically skipped towards the door. How anyone could be excited for their first night of stripping, she couldn't fathom at all.

0000

"Gentlemen, are you ready for the show?"

What sounded like hundreds of drunken male voices hooted and hollered in response, making Dahlia's heart beat faster than ever.

"Give it up, then! Here's our lovely angels of the moon!"

The cheering was loud enough to drown out the music, and almost made Dahlia want to take a step back as the curtain rose to reveal her and four other dancers to the entire bar.

The dancers were standing in a line at the top of the steps; Dahlia was the last one. They began their descent down the stairs in time with the upbeat music, smiling and waving at the men as if they were in a parade. When they got to the bottom, a tall blonde that Dahlia only new as Candy took center stage to begin her act, while she and the others strutted towards the poles.

Dahlia took the pole at the end of the stage, grabbing on at the top and spinning her way down. Right before her feet hit the ground she wrapped her legs around the metal so her head was dangling off the stage. Men cheered and laugh, throwing dollars her way, begging her to strip off her clothes.

She grinned as she stood back up, her face flushing a burning red at group of men who had crowded around her side of the stage. Of course they were here solely for the show; any form of nudity satisfied them, but she couldn't help but to feel a boost of confidence, especially since it was her first night. If they were enjoying her so much, she might as well embrace it.

She spotted a few girls sitting at the edges of the stage, men handling them money while they smiled and flirted. She did the same, legs crossed over the stage as she flashed the men her best smile. Like clockwork, they started handing her money, even more than when she was on the twirling around the pole. Rent was going to easier to pay than she thought.

If men weren't at the crowding girls at the stage or getting personal lap dances, they were at the bar, talking amongst themselves as they watched from their seats. But Dahlia could see something different from a man in the back of the crowd. He was hunched over slightly in his seat at the table, away from the lights as if he were trying to keep himself from being seen. He was alone; not at the bar with friends, no girls around him, looking like an outcast; completely out of place. She thought it was strange how a man in a _strip bar _would have no interest in being up front and center with the action.

Maybe he just wanted breathing space.

But nonetheless, he was definitely enjoying the show. He was watching her. Not in the sane, gawkish way that the rest of the audience was, but with a seemingly different intent. What purpose it was…she didn't know. She blew a kiss to her crowd before standing up, taking the steps off of the stage and to the floor. She focused on the man in the back, ignoring the catcalls and offers from the previous men.

Bills were still being tossed at her; she caught as many as possible, sliding them into the waistband of her skirt. She unbuttoned her tiny black vest as she went, showing off her bare skin underneath. Not even the smallest bras backstage would fit her right, so she decided not to wear one. Although Sal had told her that personal lap dances were where the money was strong, he had advised her to stick to the stage since this was her first night. But Dahlia was filled with a sudden burst of confidence; she practically felt invincible.

He didn't move or speak as she walked up to him, even when her hands trailed along his shoulders. His eyes only travelled up and down her body, examining her. She got a pretty good look at him as well.

She was nearly struck motionless.

He smelt of gasoline and cigarettes. His eyes were the deepest shade of brown, yet bright with excitement as they hungrily took in her body. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a tiny ponytail, curls covering his face. But his face…that was what caught her attention the most. Thick, jagged scars ran from the corners of his mouth up to his cheek, carving a permanent smile into him. A cruel smirk times a thousand.

She should've back away when she got a look at him, at his scars. A man like that only meant one thing: trouble. But Dahlia wasn't the type of person to cower in fear when someone with a facial deformity came walking her way. She did live in Gotham, after all. Trouble was everywhere.

For some reason, looking at him lit a fire in her, spreading energy throughout her body. She never considered herself a dangerous person, but the thought of being near such a risky looking guy made her want to stick around. Raw desire was threatening to take over. But she knew she had to take this slow. What exactly was she planning to do? Seduce this strange, scarred mystery man? All she wanted was a closer look...

_"Just do your job, Dahlia."_

"Like what you see?" She asked in the sexiest voice she could manage, inching closer so she was nearly straddling him. She searched his face for any sign of a reaction. If anything, his eyes seemed to be even brighter, his smirk expanding.

"Do you?" He muttered, and gripped her hips.

"Ah, ah, ah…" She mock scolded. "You can look, but you can't touch. That's the rules."

"I don't play by the rules," He growled. She giggled, slowly grinding her ass against his crotch, practically sitting on him. "You, ah, don't seem like the rule-following type, _dollface_."

Although Dahlia had heard men use that nickname on her a million times before, there was something interesting about how he said it...almost in a menacing and mysterious manner.

"Looks can be deceiving," Dahlia was glad her back was to him, so he wouldn't have to see the grin breaking across her face. Shamelessly flirting always gave her a thrill. And on this night, she was on fire with it. "But I can bend a few rules, if I want to."

"Oh, _do _tell." He said, excitement creeping into his voice. It was just then that the song ended, and Dahlia decided it was her cue to go. Always leave the customer wanting more…

"Maybe next time." She suggested and tried to stand up, but she couldn't break out of his grasp. His fingers were digging into her hips. Dahlia frowned, twisting in his grip. He held on even tighter, the pain causing her to whine. Just then, he swiftly let go, as if holding on was a mistake. She quickly began walking towards the stage, stunned and unable to comprehend what had just happened.

She looked back as she walked away. He was sitting in the same position as before, slouched in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. Only this time, he was wearing a smile that seemed to tear across his entire face. A cruel smirk times a thousand.

And his eyes.

His eyes were burning right into hers.

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Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always appreciated :)


	3. Nightmares

"Yeah girl!" Lana pushed her lungs to the limit so she could be heard over the cheering row of men sitting in front of her. She succeeded at the cost of her throat, which was already beginning to burn.

After the loudness had died down and the girls got ready for their next set, Lana had to think about what just happened. She never thought she would be working in a strip club cheering for her best friend while she slid down poles. But the wild, excited attitudes of the men who hadn't moved from the bar had gotten to her, and she found herself laughing and cheering along. Pete, the main bartender, had showed her the basics; he stuck to the elaborate beverages while she poured beer from the tap and rinsed glasses.

Strangely enough, she'd forgotten why she was so hesitant to work at the Moon. That is, until her phone started ringing and she looked at the caller ID.

Adam.

"Shit," Lana muttered under her breath. "Shit, shit, shit."

She waved to Pete, telling him that she was going on break. He nodded in approval, and she dashed from behind the bar, redialing Adam's number.

"Lana?"

"Hey, Adam..."

"Hey—where are you? Its kind of loud."

"Ye-yeah, I'm, uh, I'm…"

"What's that? I can't hear you."

Lana pushed through crowds of people until she reached the bathroom. Walking inside, she let out an exhausted sigh.

"Lana? Lana! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She leaned against the wall.

"Where are you?"

"I'm…" She racked her brain for something to say. She couldn't lie to him, but she didn't want to tell him the truth…

It was no use. He was going to find out regardless. It was better to just tell him now and get it over with instead of facing his wrath later.

"I-I got a new job."

"Really? Where?"

"The…the Crescent Moon."

"What's that?"

"Its uh, its…" She sighed again. "It's a strip bar."

It was silent on his end for what seemed like an eternity. Lana was nearly shaking. Suddenly she felt stupid; why did she agree to do this? Whenever she listened to Dahlia, bad things happened. Whether it was going to a party before an exam or smoking a joint in their dorm with a bunch of people Lana didn't know, Dahlia never made the right decision and Lana was always taking the fall with her.

Now she's jeopardized her and Adam's relationship because she decided to listen to Dahlia—again.

"A _strip _bar…" Adam finally said, breaking the silence. He was surprisingly calm; Lana didn't know whether or not to be relived or terrified. "Lana, have you lost your mind—"

"Wait, no, Adam, I'm not stripping. I'm not."

"Then why are you _working _there?"

"I'm bartending."

"_Bartending_? How did you even find out about this place?"

Lana wanted to bite her tongue. "Da…Dahlia. Dahlia told me about it."

"And you fucking _listened _to her?! You've clearly lost your mind!" Great. He wasn't calm anymore. But then again, any mention of Dahlia instantly put him in a bad mood. "What is she doing, showing you how to make drinks for a bunch of horny old men?!"

"No, she's flaunting herself on stage in front of them!"

"Oh, this is just fucking brilliant! You listen to the girl who thinks stripping can pay the rent!"

"Adam please, this isn't permanent! I just need a paying job right now until I can find a real one. I'm not stripping; I'm not taking my clothes off for anyone. I'm bartending."

He was quiet again. Lana mentally groaned; he and Dahlia always pulled the silent treatment whenever things went wrong.

"Okay," He sighed. "Okay."

"You're not mad at me anymore?"

"I was never mad at you; I'm pissed off at _Dahlia_."

"Adam, she's my best friend."

"She's a fucking idiot."

"Adam!"

"She is! She thinks she can just prance around Gotham without a care in the world; she's going to end up getting herself killed."

"She knows Gotham better than you and me. She grew up here."

"She didn't grow up in the Narrows, Lana. She doesn't know everything."

"What I'm saying is that she does stupid things, but she knows that she won't get herself killed."

He scoffed. "Sure. I just want _you _to be safe. I don't care about her."

"Fine," Lana couldn't make Adam like Dahlia to save her life. "I have to get back to work now, so I'll talk to you later."

"…You be safe, alright?"

"I got it," She smiled. "I'll see you later."

0000

_It was the first time Dahlia was aware that she was dreaming. _If _she was dreaming…she couldn't decide if this was a dream, or a nightmare. Or anything. There was nothing; nothing she could see, or hear...there was only black. She didn't think if it was possible to be immersed in pure darkness, but there she was, standing in it. Her breathing was becoming unsteady; she could sense someone else near her._

_She couldn't see him, but she could sense his presence. The overwhelming smell of gasoline and cigarettes made it all the more easier to confirm. It was almost as if she were blind, and she only had her other senses to rely on. She was mixed with an array of emotions; confusion, exhilaration, apprehension. _

_His lips were suddenly on hers, but before she could react he pulled away. She whimpered in displeasure. _

_"Open your eyes, Dahlia."_

_"You know my name?" As their voices echoed around each other, she realized how surprised she sounded. The fear, to her dismay, was just as clear._

_When he didn't answer, she slowly opened her eyes._

_As she suspected, there was a man standing inches away from her. Or, she guessed the person was a man. It was more of a vague outline, a shadow. There were no features, nothing. It was no one, just a representation._

_But she was positive she knew who it was._

_Dahlia blinked. When she opened her eyes again, he was standing even closer to her; the only thing separating them was a long blade he had pointed at her._

_"Are you going to kill me?" She asked, tilting her head. She could see the reflection of her pale blue eyes on the blade's surface. Looking up, she could see him smiling._

_"Maybe another time, dollface."_

0000

Dahlia bolted up in bed, a cry escaping her lips. She clasped her hands over her mouth; eyes wide as she listened for any sign that she woke Lana up. No footsteps outside her door, no lights switching on, nothing. She sank down into her pillows. Her head was swirling with dizziness and confusion, her heartbeat drumming wildly against her chest.

Her pillow was damp from sweating; she groaned and curled into a ball, trying to block out the nightmare she just had. Bad dreams were common for her when she was a child, but that was years ago. Whenever she had them, Jonathan would always rush into her room to comfort her, calming her down and reminding her that dreams were a "figment of your imagination." Dahlia was still in elementary school, so she didn't understand a clue of what he was saying, but it soothed her. She thought of him as her protector, preventing all the scary monsters in her dreams from haunting her.

_"Irony how he's the scary monster that I never see anymore." _

She hadn't let herself think about him since the fear gas outbreak last year—it was impossible to avoid his name. It was everywhere; television, newspapers, students and teachers throughout campus constantly talked about it, talked about the madman, the psycho, the _killer_. She didn't want to believe at first; he completely dropped off the face of the earth, she hadn't heard from him in years…then all of a sudden, his name is being dropped every second.

It was a lot to take in. But when common sense kicked in, she knew he was the one who did it. All that time she thought she needed protection from her bad dreams when in reality, Jonathan needed protection from himself. She was too young to understand then, but looking back now, it was clear that he was disturbed. Whenever he came home with a black eye or bloodied nose, he would tell her that he got hurt "fighting the bad guys in your dreams." She would laugh it off and believe him; she was young then, she didn't understand. Whenever he wasn't holed up in his room, he was being yelled at by their parents or out the house. But no matter what, he would always smile when he saw her. She'd like to think that she was the one positive thing about his life, but nothing makes sense anymore.

Dahlia didn't realize she was crying until she could taste salty tears on her lips. She wiped her eyes and turned over in bed, covering the pillow over her head. She didn't like to think about him. It hurt too much.


End file.
